Golden Boy
by ChoCedric
Summary: Severus Snape's views on Harry Potter as he goes through his Hogwarts education and his year on the run. It is incredibly painful for him to look into the face of someone he hated but see the eyes of someone he loved.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Golden Boy

By: ChoCedric

From the first moment I looked at Harry Potter, a great loathing swelled up in me, and a great sadness. Lily's beautiful, shining green eyes were on a face I had hated ever since my youth. That foul, messy mop of black hair taunts me everywhere I go as images and scenes replay in my mind of the disgusting, loathsome boy who got his jollies by teasing and bullying me. And now I have the unfortunate task of looking after his brat of a son.

Dumbledore keeps reminding me that he is Lily's son too, but I want to yell and scream at him that I do not see any of Lily's kindness in him. The first day he stepped into my classroom, he gave me lip. He does not seem to be at all grateful for anything any adult does for him to keep him safe, and everyone idolizes him like he is a piece of gold. Every time I look at him it makes me sick, because my beautiful, sweet Lily died for this spoiled little brat; she sacrificed her life in order to give this whelp protection, and all he does is strut around the castle with his little friends, poking his nose into places where it doesn't belong.

Of course, he and his sidekicks had to get themselves involved in the whole Sorcerer's Stone fiasco. I saw Potter lingering around the staffroom one day, and I immediately knew what the ungrateful little bastard thought: that I was the one attempting to steal the stone. How dare he, when I'm doing everything possible to try to save his life! The Dark Lord can kill him, for all I care, I think sometimes. If it wasn't for him, the best person on this Earth would still be alive, the only person who truly gave a shit about me. He, of course, also thought that I was the one to hex his broom that day on the Quidditch pitch. That stupid know-it-all Granger lit my robes on fire! Presumptuous little chit. Three children think they know better than me, and it's my duty to prove them wrong.

But, naturally, they were regarded as the three little heroes at the end of the year. Not only did they get past all the protections on the Stone that we teachers had worked so hard to put in place, but Potter had fought the Dark Lord and had somehow, miraculously, won. But Dumbledore explained to me that it's because of Lily's protection. Oh, sweet Lily. If only you knew how your son was turning out.

That fool Dumbledore is pampering to Potter's every whim, for he awarded the three little whelps plus that pathetic Longbottom points for Gryffindor, and the well-deserved, well-earned victory Slytherin worked so hard for got taken away. It made me nauseous to see the deliberate way Dumbledore performed this act, and I saw nothing but devastated faces as I looked around the Slytherin table. And it's all in the name of bloody Potter. He doesn't, and will never, know the guilt I still feel for handing his wise and beautiful mother to the Dark Lord on a silver platter. No doubt he will jump to conclusions and think I am nothing but the greasy bastard he has always thought I am if he ever hears about who overheard the prophecy. I didn't give a fig about James Potter, but oh, Lily...''oh, lovely Lily. I will never forgive myself for what I did to her.

In Potter's second year, he and the little scoundrels he calls friends once again tried to be the heroes of the school. Granger ended up getting petrified in the whole Chamber of Secrets episode, and once again Potter and Weasley, the two reckless Gryffindors who remind me so much of Potter and Black, figured out how to save Weasley's sister from the chamber. And Potter climbed out, exhausted but victorious, after having yet again faced an incarnation of the Dark Lord.

But what made my blood boil was Potter's third year. Sirius Black was allegedly after the boy, Sirius Black, who'd once tried to kill me. It didn't surprise me in the least when I heard he'd murdered Pettigrew and twelve innocent Muggles. Hadn't he, after all, betrayed his friends before? He'd informed me of Lupin's secret, and I knew how callous the slimy turncoat could be.

But oh, no. Harry bloody Potter didn't care. He thought it was a fine thing to do, gambling his mother's sacrifice for a bag of jokes. Sneaking off to Hogsmeade with that ridiculous map, it made me want to wrap my hands around the boy's bony little neck and squeeze, hard. I think of Lily again, and scream in despair, why did you have to die? Your son will do nothing but get himself killed in the end, and by one of your pathetic husband's so-called friends!

And to make it even worse, Dumbledore hired Lupin. LUPIN! How can he let a werewolf teach in a school? It's preposterous! He's such a naive old coot, thinking the monster will be well under control. He almost had to beg me when he asked me to make the bloody Wolfsbane Potion for the beast. Sometimes I don't know why I turned from the Dark Lord to this overly sentimental old fool, but then the image of Lily resurfaces in my mind and I know that she's the one I'm doing it for.

But Potter. The thought makes me want to spit out the name like poison. Potter. Whatever Potter wants, Potter gets, and that includes Sirius Black. And I have a feeling that old coot helped him escape punishment! Apparently Black made up some fairy tale about Pettigrew being alive and him being innocent. A likely story! Bah! And of course Dumbledore believes his Golden Boy over slithering, slimy, sneaky slytherin Severus Snape. My life's worth nothing to the old man. I'm just a tool, a pawn, someone who's expected to always do his bidding and never question him.

The following year, Potter got himself involved in the Triwizard Tournament, of course. As much as I wanted to believe the rotten little brat had cheated so that he could get himself even more attention and fame, the other half of me was worried. I had noticed the Dark Mark on my arm growing clearer, and I had heard whispers that the Dark Lord was thinking of a solution to how he could return to a body. Here I go again, I thought to myself. Here I go, trying my best to protect the boy.

When he and Diggory disappeared from the maze the night of the third task, I knew something was terribly wrong. A few minutes later I felt my Dark Mark burn and then I knew it for sure. The Dark Lord had succeeded in returning. Time passed, and then, Potter reappeared, mumbling about Diggory asking him to bring his body back to his parents and about how the Dark Lord had come back. Chaos reigned as heartbroken students and staff saw Diggory's blank, lifeless gray eyes staring into nothingness. Yes, that is what the Dark Lord can do, I thought. Totally wipe the life from someone's eyes, just like he'd done to precious Lily.

The following year, that naive old codger asked me, ME, to teach the brat Occlumency. And of course, Potter didn't want to learn. He wanted to play hero, wanted to know what the Dark Lord was up to. He didn't even try to get it right, and he lied about practicing right to my face, as if I couldn't tell.

But the straw that broke the camel's back was when I caught him looking into my Pensieve. My blood frothed and boiled, and I felt the angriest I ever had in my life. For him to stumble upon the one memory which lost me the girl of my dreams, oh, Merlin! He probably was laughing his pathetic little socks off when he saw his malicious father and his cohort Black laughing while hanging me upside down, practically assaulting me!

Even though Dumbledore begged, I refused to teach Potter Occlumency ever again. Let that be a lesson to him if the Dark Lord tries to fool him, I thought viciously. Maybe if one of his little friends dies, then he'll know what it feels like to lose somebody you love!

And sure enough, Potter's actions resulted in the death of his beloved godfather, Sirius Black. That reckless nobody, who had been hiding in his mother's house for almost a year, went haring after Potter to save his pitiful skin, and wound up getting himself killed by a curtain. How pathetic. Well, at least Potter might gain some humility from this.

Then, later that summer, Bellatrix and Narcissa came to visit me, and I was forced into making the Unbreakable Vow. Draco Malfoy is a total wimp, and I know he won't be able to kill Dumbledore. I told the old man about the vow, and he accepted it with a smile and a twinkle in the eyes. I just want to shake the Headmaster sometimes, he is so sure that his plans will work, and once again, it's all in the name of protecting Potter. Bitterness surged in my gut when I was told I had to kill the only man who'd ever believed in me, ever given me a second chance.

And I saw red when I learned that the boy would have to die for the Dark Lord to be defeated. I spied and lied for Dumbledore for years, and this is how he repays me? After all this, I will fail Lily, fail the only woman I ever loved. That manipulative, barmy old bat! He seemed shocked when I screamed that I didn't care for the boy and showed him my Patronus. Yes, old man, I still love Lily, and I want you to know you have hurt me more deeply than I thought I could ever be hurt.

I was also forced to live with Pettigrew, who is unfortunately alive after all. It makes me even more bitter to think I was mistaken about Sirius Black. Bah! And Pettigrew is nothing but a little sycophant, and it makes me ill to have to share my home with him.

That night on the Astronomy Tower, my thoughts about Draco were proved correct: he couldn't kill Dumbledore, so I was made to do it. And of course, the little hero Potter ran after me, trying to use my own spells against me! And sectumsempra, to boot! I had been livid when I saw that it had been done to Draco in the bathroom, and was disgusted by his pathetic lies and his hiding of my old Potions book. And his ridiculous complaining about missing Quidditch when he'd almost killed a fellow student was mind-boggling to me. Sanctimonious little bastard! Bah!

And then, on that terrible night, he had the nerve to call me a coward! Me, a coward? Me, who'd just performed the bravest act, killing a man whom I had served faithfully? Me, a coward? How dare he! I could only think of Lily as one of my fellow Death Eaters tried to kill him, screaming, "No! Potter belongs to the Dark Lord!"

The next year was filled with nothing but Potter and protecting the students as the Carrows hailed their reign of terror down on Hogwarts. Dumbledore's portrait was always telling me what to do; it seems as though I can never be rid of that old man, whether he's dead or alive. I gave Potter the sword, and of course the stupid fool jumped in the lake with the locket around his neck. How illogical can that boy possibly be? Doesn't he have a single lick of common sense? But Weasley was there to save him; Potter's luck never seems to run out. But I know that once he faces the Dark Lord, it will. Then there'll be no getting out of death.

Now, it is the day of the final battle, and the Dark Lord has just disposed of me like I am nothing but an insect. I am lying in the Shrieking Shack in a pool of my own blood after that snake just had its way with me. Oh, God, I have failed Lily. Now Potter will never know of my love for her, and never know what he has to do in order for the Dark Lord to be defeated. Oh, sweet Lily, I'm so sorry. Now the Dark Lord will reign forever, and there's nothing I can do.

But wait...'I suddenly see a flash of movement, and then Potter and Granger are there. With the last of my strength, I give Potter all of my memories. Granger conjures a goblet, and they all spill into it, everything that he needs to know.

"Look...'at...''me," I rasp, and Potter looks into my eyes. And it's only in that moment that I see Lily in Potter. There's no hatred or accusation in those beautiful green eyes now, only horror and shock. I stare into them, wanting them to be the last thing I see before I slip into the afterlife. For one moment I forget that he is the spawn of my enemy, James Potter. I look into those eyes and remember the loving ones of his mother, the only person who ever seemed to understand me.

And so I get my final wish. As my last breath of life escapes my lungs, emerald eyes are the last thing I see. All for you, Lily, I think to myself as I feel consciousness slipping away. I protected your Golden Boy, all for you.


End file.
